All Rise...

Editor's Note

The Charge

"A legend is entitled to be beyond time and space. Interpret it as you
wish."

Opening Statement

Jean Cocteau described Orpheus as a "realistic film…a film
in which I express a truth peculiar to myself." Made in 1950, it represents
Cocteau at the peak of his creative powers—and formidable powers those
are. Criterion offers the film as part of its Orphic Trilogy boxed set.
It is, to put it bluntly, one of the best films ever made.

Facts of the Case

We all know the myth of Orpheus. He was the most famous poet in the mythic
world. When his beloved wife, Eurydice, died, he traveled to the underworld to
serenade the beautiful Persephone and convince her to let Eurydice go. The
princess of the underworld relented and released Orpheus' wife, but admonished
him not to look back during his journey back to the world. But he looked at
Eurydice, and she vanished forever, leaving him to a savage death at the hands
of the followers of Dionysus.

And Cocteau's retelling of the myth? In the modern day, the brilliant poet
Orpheus (Jean Marais), beloved by the people but resented by the poseurs at the
Poet's Café, watches the pretentious crowd swoon over his rival Cegeste
(Edouard Dermithe). His friend remarks, "Orpheus, your gravest fault is
knowing how to get away with going too far." But very shortly, that talent
will be pushed to its limit.

Cegeste is run down by a pair of motorcyclists in quasi-fascist uniforms.
His patron, a beautiful and mysterious princess (Maria Cesares), and her driver
Heurtebise (Francois Perier) pull the body into their car. The Princess demands
Orpheus come along as a witness. Driving through a strange landscape, and soon
joined by the murderous motorcyclists, they arrive at a ruined building. Cegeste
is awakened, and the Princess is revealed as his own personal "Death."
She takes him into a mirror and vanishes. Orpheus falls asleep.

Returned by Heurtebise to his home and adoring wife Eurydice, Orpheus
remains haunted by his memories of the experience, and by the cryptic poetry he
hears coming out of the car radio. And when he sleeps, the Princess comes out of
the mirror to watch over him, knowing that her own growing obsession breaks the
rules. How far will she go to have her poet?

The Evidence

Is Orpheus a story about art? If so, it constructs a fatal circle
around poetic inspiration. Orpheus only becomes a true poet when inspired by
Death herself, aspiring to transcend the rule of death and achieve immortality.
Cocteau paints his images in layers of silver, always focused on the tiny
details of this world. Reality is elegantly mundane, like the French countryside
in spring. The Other World is a blasted city, burned and shattered, with every
detail visible. Characters float through scenes as if in a dream, yet always
conscious of their surroundings. As the Princess tells Orpheus, "Sleeping
or awake, the dreamer must accept his dreams." But for a film about
"art," Orpheus is remarkably unselfconscious. There is a real
story here, with little forced artifice. The performances are uniformly
excellent, grounding the ethereal events of the plot in human terms. The desire
for art is revealed as Desire itself.

Is Orpheus a love story? If so, it tells how love itself can
transcend death. Drawn to Orpheus, the Princess, a mere functionary in some
bureaucratic afterlife, will break all the rules to bring her poet to her side.
And as Heurtebise lingers in the world of the living, falling in love with
Eurydice, who remains devoted to Orpheus, the triangle takes on more dimensions
than one can calculate, like the unbounded spaces of the Other World the
characters must cross on their journey.

If all this sounds a bit gushing, I do have to admit that I have a
particular fondness for this film. But as I remarked in my review of The
Blood of a Poet, Cocteau is one of the most influential artists (especially
in film) of the 20th century. And Orpheus is his best film (although
likely Beauty and the Beast is more
popular). And, for those usually afraid of "avant-garde" filmmaking
(which is often pretty dreary and needlessly cryptic), Orpheus is very
accessible to the average viewer. Clocking in at a well-paced 95 minutes, it
wastes no time on pretentiousness. Cocteau was a firm believer that mythology
was a living thing, as he says in the 1950 essay included with the DVD:
"There is nothing more vulgar than works that set out to prove something.
[Orpheus], naturally, avoids even the appearance of trying to prove
anything." Yet, it is that lack of artifice which says everything about
both art and love.

And the disc itself? The shimmering clarity of Criterion's transfer is
excellent, capturing the light touch of Nicholas Hayer's cinematography, which
as noted above mixes layers of light and shadow. The print shows minimal
defects, and the sound mix is well balanced and clear. As with The Blood of a
Poet, the film is presented in its original aspect ration of 1.33:1, so the
subtitles overlap the bottom of the image. Everything is clear and easy to read
however, and you can always turn the subtitles off and still follow the
story.

The Rebuttal Witnesses

First, I must offer a correction: in my review of The Blood of a Poet,
I implied that the three DVD's in the Orphic Trilogy set were available
separately (which they are on VHS). At this time, Criterion only offers the
three Cocteau films together on DVD (his other masterpiece, Beauty and the Beast is available
separately in a fine edition as well). That being said, the criticism that
Orpheus is presented in "bare-bones" fashion, with no extras on
the disc itself (other than a bibliofilmography also included on the other
discs) is really not much of a problem at all. Although it would have been nice
for Criterion to include more on this particular film than a brief 1950 essay
reprinted on the insert, the other two discs in the set, The Blood of a
Poet and Testament of Orpheus contain
enough goodies to make up for it. In fact, Orpheus by itself is such a
stunning centerpiece to the package that it has more replay value even in a
bare-bones edition than the other two films (good as they are) with all their
extras included.

Other than that, I have no criticisms to level against the film. It is not
artsy or pretentious, yet it crackles with poetic genius. Not a frame of film is
wasted.

Closing Statement

Orpheus is Cocteau's masterpiece. It is a thoughtful and fascinating
journey though love and death and art. Does anything else matter?

The Verdict

Although other courts may condemn the poet and his muse for breaking the
rules, those petty bureaucrats have no influence here. The prosecution is
dismissed with prejudice from this courtroom.